The Dance of the Crane
by Mephiles454
Summary: 5 years have passed since the Becky incident and Crane decides he should find out what his little mouse is doing. He decides to disguise himself as a Psychology Professor in order to get closer to her and catch her off guard. But when Becky finds out his secret, she decides to play his dangerous game of deception. Will she survive, or will she just be another victim of Scarecrow?
1. Breakout

**Hello, everyone. After looking at some of the good fics on this site, I decided I would make my own. My current obsession: Batman. So, this is my first attempt at writing a Batman fan fiction, so if I mess up or get any character OOC, please remind me gently so that I may correct it and make it better. **

**Anyway, I love Jon/Becky pairing, and after seeing some of the amazing ways my fellow writers have written them, I wanted to try my own hand at writing this kind of fanfic. **

**It won't just be Jonathan and Becky in this story, but several of the cast we all know and love. Appearances, unless specified, are based on their appearance in the Arkham Asylum/City video games, as that is what really got me into Crane in the first place. **

**Crane himself, however, will not be based on his profile in Arkham Asylum. And neither will Jervis. Crane's appearance will be based off his appearance in ****_Scarecrow: Year One. _****Jervis' appearance will be based off his appearance in Batman: the Animated Series, as that one is the only Jervis I can like and identify with. The rest are…a bit too creepy for my taste. **

**So, anyway, enough talk. On with the story!**

Chapter 1

Breakout

Becky Albright

Jonathan Crane mused on that name, reading a book on psychology in his cell at Arkham Asylum.

Becky Albright

He flipped to the next page, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to concentrate, but despite everything he did, that name just kept coming back.

**Becky Albright**

Stifling a soft growl, he slammed the book down, startling his cellmate, Jervis Tetch, who had just been asleep on the top cot. "_Curiouser and curiouser_…" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he looked down at his cellmate. The Scarecrow paced the cell, grumbling under his breath. "_You're thinking about something, and it makes you forget to_ talk."

Crane stopped his pacing, glaring up at the blonde man. "It's none of your business, Tetch," he snapped, his thoughts of the girl seemingly badgering at his mind.

The Hatter continued to stare, and Crane began to find this quite annoying, knowing that he wouldn't stop, until he got an answer out of him. He sighed. "Her name is Becky."

Jervis seemed to perk up at this as he grinned, sitting cross-legged, his hat resting between his legs as he folded his fingers together. "_Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop._"

Crane sighed, "Verywell. But speak of this to anyone and I will have your head."

Jervis squeaked in fear, clutching his hat tightly to his chest.

The Scarecrow smirked at his comment hit home with the Hatter. Looking to make sure there were no one listening in, he proceeded to tell Tetch the story of his encounter with the plucky Becky Albright.

"But this is what I don't get, Tetch. Why am I still thinking about her? It's been five years since that incident occurred. This should have blown over long ago. Why is she coming up now?"

The Mad Hatter shrugged.

Crane just rolled his eyes. Figured the wonderland-addict wouldn't give him a reasonable answer.

He was just about to continue to his book when dozens of guards came running down the hallway.

Now, Jonathan Crane was smart. He had to be in order to stay alive in the criminal underworld. And he knew only two things could make the Asylum guards run that fast: quitting time or a violent inmate on the loose. Since it was hours before lights out, someone had to be making trouble.

He didn't have to wait to figure out who had broken out, as an ear-splitting cackle rose above the sirens that were going off.

_Looks like the Joker's out,_ Crane thought, walking towards the cell door to get a better look.

Jervis, too, noticed the commotion. Placing his hat back on top of his head, he slid down from his cot and huddled near the taller man.

Though they could not see where the sounds were coming from, as the fight was further down the hallway where they were being held, they could hear the sounds of a scuffle, followed by a high-pitched shriek of laughter.

"Looks like Harley's out," murmured Jonathan, adjusting his glasses. The shriek was then followed by a massive shock wave of force that shook the cell walls. "And Killer Croc," he added, as the scaly form of the reptile-like man barreled through the hallway, causing carnage in his wake.

Jonathan and Jervis both backed away as Croc rammed into their cell, shattering the Plexiglas wall that acted as a window of their cell.

Without waiting to see if Killer Croc recovered from the rubble, they bolted from the cell, dodging the hodgepodge of doctors, guards, and inmates in their race to escape.

They made their way out of the Penitentiary, and towards both the entrance and exit of Arkham Asylum.

"There's a car. Let's go, Jonathan," Jervis shouted, grabbing the professor's wrist as he dashed off towards a lone car in the distance.

"Now you speak normally!" Jonathan shouted, exasperated at the smaller man as the two ran.

"_No time, no time. We're late, we're late for a very important date."_

_And he's back_, the Scarecrow thought, lifting a rock from the ground and then smashed the window, unlocking the doors.

Jervis dove down into the passenger side seat, while Crane maneuvered himself into the driver's seat.

Not waiting to buckle his seatbelt, Crane stepped on the gas pedal.

Like a bat out of hell, they drove away from the Asylum and towards the unsuspecting populace of Gotham City.


	2. Plucky Becky

**Hello, everyone. After looking at some of the good fics on this site, I decided I would make my own. My current obsession: Batman. So, this is my first attempt at writing a Batman fan fiction, so if I mess up or get any character OOC, please remind me gently so that I may correct it and make it better. **

**Anyway, I love Jon/Becky pairing, and after seeing some of the amazing ways my fellow writers have written them, I wanted to try my own hand at writing this kind of fanfic. **

**It won't just be Jonathan and Becky in this story, but several of the cast we all know and love. Appearances, unless specified, are based on their appearance in the Arkham Asylum/City video games, as that is what really got me into Crane in the first place. **

**Crane himself, however, will not be based on his profile in Arkham Asylum. And neither will Jervis. Crane's appearance will be based off his appearance in ****_Scarecrow: Year One. _****Jervis' appearance will be based off his appearance in Batman: the Animated Series, as that one is the only Jervis I can like and identify with. The rest are…a bit too creepy for my taste. **

**So, anyway, enough talk. On with the story!**

Chapter 1

Breakout

Becky Albright

Jonathan Crane mused on that name, reading a book on psychology in his cell at Arkham Asylum.

Becky Albright

He flipped to the next page, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to concentrate, but despite everything he did, that name just kept coming back.

**Becky Albright**

Stifling a soft growl, he slammed the book down, startling his cellmate, Jervis Tetch, who had just been asleep on the top cot. "_Curiouser and curiouser_…" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he looked down at his cellmate. The Scarecrow paced the cell, grumbling under his breath. "_You're thinking about something, and it makes you forget to_ talk."

Crane stopped his pacing, glaring up at the blonde man. "It's none of your business, Tetch," he snapped, his thoughts of the girl seemingly badgering at his mind.

The Hatter continued to stare, and Crane began to find this quite annoying, knowing that he wouldn't stop, until he got an answer out of him. He sighed. "Her name is Becky."

Jervis seemed to perk up at this as he grinned, sitting cross-legged, his hat resting between his legs as he folded his fingers together. "_Start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop._"

Crane sighed, "Verywell. But speak of this to anyone and I will have your head."

Jervis squeaked in fear, clutching his hat tightly to his chest.

The Scarecrow smirked at his comment hit home with the Hatter. Looking to make sure there were no one listening in, he proceeded to tell Tetch the story of his encounter with the plucky Becky Albright.

"But this is what I don't get, Tetch. Why am I still thinking about her? It's been five years since that incident occurred. This should have blown over long ago. Why is she coming up now?"

The Mad Hatter shrugged.

Crane just rolled his eyes. Figured the wonderland-addict wouldn't give him a reasonable answer.

He was just about to continue to his book when dozens of guards came running down the hallway.

Now, Jonathan Crane was smart. He had to be in order to stay alive in the criminal underworld. And he knew only two things could make the Asylum guards run that fast: quitting time or a violent inmate on the loose. Since it was hours before lights out, someone had to be making trouble.

He didn't have to wait to figure out who had broken out, as an ear-splitting cackle rose above the sirens that were going off.

_Looks like the Joker's out,_ Crane thought, walking towards the cell door to get a better look.

Jervis, too, noticed the commotion. Placing his hat back on top of his head, he slid down from his cot and huddled near the taller man.

Though they could not see where the sounds were coming from, as the fight was further down the hallway where they were being held, they could hear the sounds of a scuffle, followed by a high-pitched shriek of laughter.

"Looks like Harley's out," murmured Jonathan, adjusting his glasses. The shriek was then followed by a massive shock wave of force that shook the cell walls. "And Killer Croc," he added, as the scaly form of the reptile-like man barreled through the hallway, causing carnage in his wake.

Jonathan and Jervis both backed away as Croc rammed into their cell, shattering the Plexiglas wall that acted as a window of their cell.

Without waiting to see if Killer Croc recovered from the rubble, they bolted from the cell, dodging the hodgepodge of doctors, guards, and inmates in their race to escape.

They made their way out of the Penitentiary, and towards both the entrance and exit of Arkham Asylum.

"There's a car. Let's go, Jonathan," Jervis shouted, grabbing the professor's wrist as he dashed off towards a lone car in the distance.

"Now you speak normally!" Jonathan shouted, exasperated at the smaller man as the two ran.

"_No time, no time. We're late, we're late for a very important date."_

_And he's back_, the Scarecrow thought, lifting a rock from the ground and then smashed the window, unlocking the doors.

Jervis dove down into the passenger side seat, while Crane maneuvered himself into the driver's seat.

Not waiting to buckle his seatbelt, Crane stepped on the gas pedal.

Like a bat out of hell, they drove away from the Asylum and towards the unsuspecting populace of Gotham City.


	3. Back to School

**I just wanted to say thank you for all the reviews for my story. It really brightens my day when you do this. Thank you so much. As your reward, here is the next chapter. **

Jonathan fidgeted with the tie around his neck, walking towards the looming building of the Gotham University

He had on a formal suit, black, with matching black pants and dress shoes. He adjusted his red tie again, making sure it was just tight enough on his neck to feel comfortable, but not too strangling.

Feeling that the tie was just right, Crane looked down at the fake I.D. he had commissioned from the Penguin. It displayed his pseudonym, James Crowley, as well as his picture, which he had the Riddler alter just enough to look like him, but still fool the people of Gotham.

Behind him was a very nervous Jervis Tetch, who had contacted him for a request to help him find Alice. The blonde fidgeted with the baseball cap he wore on his head, mumbling to himself and wringing his hands.

After a few minutes of this, he finally turned to the disguised Hatter, "What is it now, Tetch?" he snapped, irritated with his shorter companion.

"Why do I need to do this again, Jonathan? Alice won't recognize me without my hat," he stated, looking nervously around, like a frightened rabbit.

Crane sighed, "Don't you remember the plan, Tetch? We sneak into the university, disguised as teachers, and kidnap Becky and Alice."

"But why do I have to go?" Jervis whined, fidgeting with his cap again, irritated at its shape. It felt odd on his head, a weird, alien thing, so unlike his beloved top hat.

"Because to get to the Professor of Psychology, I had to gas the dean. And since I can't be in two places at once, that's where you come in," Crane restated, handing Tetch the fake I.D. he had commissioned for him.

The I.D. stated that his name was Lewis Sketch, and the picture of him was of a redhead with a bucked-toothed smile.

"I do not look like that, Jonathan!" Jervis sputtered, ire in his voice. "No proper Englishman would dye his hair."

"Then it's a good thing you're American, then," Jonathan muttered under his breath, opening the door of the University.

As they traced their way through the maze-like hallways, Jonathan reviewed the plan with Tetch. "Now, do you remember what you have to do?"

Jervis nodded.

"No wonderland talk. We don't want to risk being discovered, do we?"

Jervis shook his head, though he looked very disappointed.

Jonathan grinned, "Now, here's the layout of the University," he said, handing Jervis a map of the University. "Do you understand where you have to go?"

Jervis nodded. "After this, then we can get Alice?" he asked, eagerness in his voice.

Crane smirked, "Yes, then we'll get Alice."

Jervis grinned, before skipping off towards his post.

Crane snickered, rubbing his hands together. Jervis was so easy to manipulate. Just mention the name "Alice" to him, and he was off like a shot.

Opening the door to his old room, Crane looked around. The classroom hadn't changed since he had last taught nearly ten years ago.

Adjusting his nameplate on the desk, Crane sat down in the chair, waiting for the students to come in, smirking as he put his plan into action.

Becky walked towards her Psychology class, her purse thumping against her shin as her cane tapped on the linoleum floor.

She stepped carefully, her eyes on the floor. Oftentimes, the more juvenile students tried to trip her.

A backpack sent into her path caused her to trip, falling face first onto the hard floor.

Some of the other kids laughed. Becky only shook her head, gripping her cane as she used it to try to pull herself up.

Only to see a blonde girl standing there, staring at her.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked, picking up a book that fallen onto the floor.

After getting her balance, Becky faced the girl. "Yes, I'm fine." The girl blinked. "I'm Becky. Who are you?"

The girl shook her free hand, happy to meet her. "I'm Alice. It's nice to meet you," she said cheerfully, before looking at her Cheshire cat watch. "Uh-oh, I'm late. Nice to meet you, Becky," she said, before dashing down the hallway.

Becky smiled at the girl. She seemed nice, that girl. She wished a lot of the other students were as friendly and cheerful as her. In Gotham, it felt there was really no ray of sunshine in the always dismally clouded sky, and the people acted much colder than usual to others around them.

She stopped at the door to her Psychology classroom. But as she opened the door and got a glimpse at the teacher, her jaw dropped.

For standing at the drawing board, writing down the lessons, was the same man that she had passed on the streets.

_This is weird_, Becky thought, placing her books at her desk, and sat down in her chair. _I just saw the guy on the streets. Why is he suddenly teaching my Psychology class? And why does he look so familiar?_

The man noticed her entrance, and walked towards her, his long legs closing the distance between them with each step he took.

"Well, well, I didn't think I would see you here, Miss Albright," the man said, a slightly sinister smile on his face.

"Why are you here?" she blurted, looking down as she blushed in embarrassment. _It's like I keep blurting out whatever's on my mind to this guy._

Crane's eyebrows rose when she asked that question.

"Oh, well," he coughed, clearing his throat. "My name is Professor James Crowley. I just happen to be the new Professor of Psychology for the University."

"What happened to Professor Jenkins?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jonathan barely hid his smirk as he replied, "Professor Jenkins happened to have a bit of a 'mental breakdown,' so he had to retire."

She nodded, understanding, although she was still suspicious of this new man just showing up all of a sudden without much warning.

_You're getting paranoid again, Becky, Stop it_.

She decided to file into her seat as the other students slowly wandered in, keeping her cane and purse close to her to avoid tripping the other students.

Crane grinned, rubbing his hands together as the students took their seats. "Alright, students. My name is Professor Crowley, and it's time we truly learn about how a person's mind work."

Jervis Tetch was nervous.

This was practically the understatement of the century, as it took all of the Hatter's (limited) self-control to keep from mumbling the "You are old, Father Time" speech to himself like the Lord's Prayer as he stared at her.

_How is she here? Why is she here?_ Jervis thought, his hands shaking. _I thought I wouldn't see her again, but here she is, standing right before me._

Alice waved a hand in front of his face. "Mr. Sketch, sir. Mr. Sketch, are you alright?"

Jervis shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine, my dear. I was just thinking about something."

She smiled, "Alright, I was just wanting to say that I brought you some tea, sir."

He beamed, taking the steaming mug from her hand. "Oh, thank you, my dear," he said, sipping his tea slowly, savoring the feeling of the Earl Grey running down his throat.

"So, what exactly are you doing here, Miss…"

"Pleasance. Alice Pleasance. As for what I do, I was Mr. Jacob's aide before he became ill. Is he alright?"

Jervis remembered the old dean, Mr. Jacobs. The poor fellow had actually had the gall to insult the Scarecrow to his face. He didn't last long after that.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Jacobs had a heart attack and died, my dear. It was a truly tragic circumstance," he replied, bowing his head for a moment.

Alice gasped, a hand to her mouth. "That poor man! I'm so sorry."

Jervis shook his head. "It's not your fault, my dear. It just happens sometimes."

Alice looked down. "I guess…"

He took her hand. "Don't be upset, Alice. I'm sure we'll have a good time together."

Alice smiled, before pulling her hand away, brushing a loose strand of long, blonde hair behind her ears. "Yeah, I think I will."


	4. Progress

Jonathan Crane was pleased as he observed Becky's work. The girl was very bright, and picked up on things quickly; taking down numerous notes while the others just stared at him, bored.

He had heard a few of them call him "the Crowguy" or even "Scarecrow", which only made him jot down their names of who would be the first to get a taste of his new fear toxin he was working on. Secrets must be kept secret for a reason.

As he graded the papers that the class turned in, he couldn't help but chuckle at the idiocy the students thought they could get away with.

For some reason, he found plucky Becky Albright to be a fascinating individual. The last time he had seen her, she had been studying Law and the court system, not having a clue to how the mind works, and now, after he had (potentially) scarred her for life so badly, she was probably fascinated by what he did and how he did it. After all, the best way to get rid of fear is to face it.

She would, on some occasions, stay and work on her homework he assigned in class.

It was during this time, in the quiet silence, that he would talk to her.

"You seem to be doing very well in this class, Becky," he said, opening the conversation between them. "I remember hearing you were going to major in Law, yet you changed your major right before you were about to finish you bachelor's degree." He walked towards some of the empty desk, sitting across from her. "Tell me: why did you suddenly decide to change?" he asked, his cold, blue eyes staring into her warm, hazel eyes.

Becky looked down, marking an answer on her paper. "I don't know, really, why I suddenly decided to study psychology instead of Law."

Crane raised an eyebrow, "That seems like quite a drastic change to decide on a whim."

She looked up, stopping her work, "Maybe it was. But a certain someone made me wonder what it is that drove him to such madness that he would willingly scare people to death just to observe their fears."

"You mean the Scarecrow."

"Of course I mean the Scarecrow! Who do you think I was talking about? Sigmund Freud?" she snapped at him, before letting out a frustrated sigh as she tapped her pencil against the desk, stuck on one of the questions.

Crane grinned._ Oh yes, I like her already_, he thought, moving over to see which question she was stuck on.

"Do you think that maybe, you should probably think of how the victim copes with the problem?" he asked, giving her a hint of how to answer the question.

Becky blinked, before slapping her forehead. "Oh, right. I should have thought of that. Thank you, Professor Crowley."

Crane just shook his head, before chuckling, "Please, call me James. Professor Crowley is for a more…formal setting. This is just me helping you with homework."

She nodded, "Alright, Profe—er—I mean, James."

Jonathan smirked, and went back to grading his papers.

After she was done with her assignment, she gave it to Crane, and then exited the room, going home.

Crane soon gathered up his work, and headed towards his hideout.

On the way out, he bumped into Tetch, who had just headed down the same hallway.

"So, how goes your little endeavor, Jonathan?" Jervis asked, a grin on his face as wide as a Cheshire cat's.

Jonathan only returned the grin, before putting a hand on Tetch's shoulder. "I think we don't need to resort to kidnapping, Tetch."

The Hatter blinked, "And why's that?"

"Because they'll play exactly into our hands. All we need to do is play our cards right," Crane replied, and the two grinned.

Jervis, however, stopped suddenly, his nervous demeanor coming back to him. "Um, Jonathan?"

Crane stopped, turning back to the Hatter. "What is it, Tetch? I want to get home before the Bat starts to patrol."

Tetch tapped his pointer fingers together. "I-It's about Alice."

Crane raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Yes, what about her, Tetch?"

"Well…she-she-"

"She what, Tetch? Spit it out," Crane snapped, impatient.

"She recognized me!" Jervis blurted, before putting both of his hands over his mouth.

Jonathan's eyes widened, before he pulled Tetch up by lapels of his coat, "She What?!"

"She recognized my face. There was nothing I could do," Jervis whimpered, shaking slightly.

Crane cursed. He should have thought about that. "What did you say to her?"

The Mad Hatter grinned, "That's the thing. I told her I was reformed now."

Crane raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Jervis nodded quickly, "Yes, and even if she reads the paper, I'm not doing anything illegal, so maybe she won't report me."

Jonathan dropped the man, before crossing his arms. "Are you really sure that she can be trusted? She's a civilian. We're criminals. Do you really think it would work out?"

The Mad Hatter looked down for a minute, and then looked back up at the Scarecrow. "What about Becky?"

Crane just laughed, a chilling sound that reminded Tetch of the Jabberwocky. "What? Her? Please, she's just an experiment. Nothing more, nothing less. Once I'm done finding out about what she fears now, I'll just kill her and be done with it. No trouble."

Jervis frowned. That doesn't sound like Jonathan at all. "Jonathan, I don't quite think that's the right way to go about—"

"Nonsense, Tetch. This will go perfectly," Jonathan reassured his friend. "After all, she has no idea who I am. If she did, she would have run away from now."

Jervis thought about it, before shrugging. "Oh, alright. Your call."

Jonathan grinned. "Trust me, Tetch. This will be a cinch."

Becky looked down at the newspaper clippings in her hands. She flipped through them, cutting out some of the images of the Scarecrow.

"Something's not right with this man," she mumbled, flipping through more pictures. "It's something about his voice, his figure. I've seen this before. I just know it."

Her eyes widened as she finally found an image. She gasped, backing away slowly as everything finally clicked into place.

For staring at her from the photo, cold, blue eyes stared into her, was the image of James Crowley. The man's carrot-top head, half-rimmed glasses, and his cold eyes matched exactly to the man she had as a teacher.

Becky just stared at the photo, too scared to look away.

"What do I do?" she asked herself, biting her lip.

She debated whether to go back to the University, or just leave town altogether.

"Wait a second, what am I doing?" she asked herself, smacking her head. "I shouldn't be scared of him. I wasn't scared of him then, I shouldn't be scared of him now."

Becky thought for a bit. But then an idea struck her.

"Wait…I can use this. All I have to do is play his game for a bit, and the minute he drops his guard and spills the beans, I'll record it. Then, I can testify against him."

Becky began to plan, excited to finally get rid of her fear once and for all.


	5. An (almost) Partnership

**The flashback scene is part of the Mistress of Fear comic. It is, mostly, exactly from the comic. As such, all rights belong to DC and Dark Horse comics**

**Now, on with the story.**

Chapter 5

A (almost) Partnership

As Becky walked to the University, a feeling of anticipation stirred in her gut.

_What am I going to do?_ she thought, suddenly uncertain. She had planned out what she could do, but all those plans seemed to have holes in them. _I don't even know that much about him. All I know is that he was kicked out of the University by the former dean for firing off a gun in class. Then he began to use fear toxin to start his criminal career._

_But I don't know why he decided to use fear gas or even why he decided to become the Scarecrow in the first place,_ she mused.

She hopped onto the subway, the conductor punching her two-way ticket and let her get onboard. Sitting down on one of the "cleaner" seats, she continued to chew on the topic of Jonathan Crane.

She remembered back to that night when he offered her a chance to be his "Mistress of Fear" and what had happened when she had rejected him.

"What the hell is that?" she spat in disgust, looking at the revealing costume the Scarecrow had made for her.

And, indeed, it looked hideous. The head part was okay, and the hair was a nice touch, but everything else was disgusting. The…corset, if it could be called that, looked like it was coming apart at the seems, and the netting for the arms was ripped in various places.

"It's a costume, Becky. I took the liberty of preparing it for you. Though, of course, any minor alteration you desire can be arranged," he said, proud of his "accomplishment", before staring at her with the eyes of a panther stalking a gazelle. "You shall be the Mistress of Fear. You will join me. Together, we will hit back at the world and the cruel injustices heaped upon people like us. At last, you will have the chance to turn the tables on your tormentors."

Becky thought about this, unsure of what to do. On one hand, to finally have that kind of power, that kind of strength, to get even with her tormentors was a tempting proposition. And she feared what Crane would do to her if she rejected his offer. But then the people she promised to protect, the people that she swore she would let their voices be heard, would be in danger because of her. She made her decision.

"No," she said, looking away.

At her statement, Scarecrow dropped the mask, confused. "But I'm offering you the chance to see the fear in their eyes! I've spent enough years in Arkham Asylum to know the symptoms, Becky. You have the classic psychological profile to be one of us!"

"You're crazy! That's not the way to deal with it. That's not the way I'm going to deal with it!" she shouted at him, fed up with his words.

The Scarecrow raised his scythe, towering over her 5'5'' frame with his full 6'3'' of height. "I am not crazy! This is a perfectly sane and rational response to my traumatic experiences. And if you don't believe me…I'll kill you!" he snarled at her, hand poised to give the deathblow.

Becky gulped, tears coming to her eyes. There was no way out. She could barely walk without her cane to steady her, and Scarecrow blocked the exit that lead down from the roof of the building. So she stood her ground, hands going limp by her sides. "Then…you'll have to kill me."

The scythe flashed as he started to bring it down.

Becky was jolted from her memory by a loud beep, signaling her stop. Grabbing her cane and backpack, she headed out, blending in with the crushing people of Gotham's streets.

She was thankful for Batman. After all, he was the reason that Scarecrow didn't hurt her more than he did, and he was also the reason she was still alive today.

But Becky had to wonder at why Crane was at her college, teaching psychology, of all things. And the dean, who sometimes visited the Professor, was suspicious as well. He always had a hat on, and seemed to be good friends with Crane.

_You're jumping to conclusions again, Becky_, her mind scolded. _You don't have any evidence that something is wrong with the dean._

_But still_, she thought as she filed into her seat, pulling out her books. _It's not considered to be fact unless the details are relevant And in this case, they're certainly looking like it._

Crane couldn't resist the maddened glee appearing on his face at some of the faces the students pulled as he handed back the exam papers. That would show them to not pay attention in his class.

Becky, however, was still on the top of her game. Crane smirked at her as he handed her back her paper. He knew she was smart, but he liked the unique way she phrased the questions, as if she was talking to the real him, not the Professor persona he put on.

He turned away, passing back the rest of the papers, before heading back to his desk. After giving them their assignment for the day, he dismissed them.

Everyone left, all except for Becky.

She approached him, her cane making nervous little half-taps as she walked.

Crane frowned. "What seems to be the matter, Becky? Was your test grade not satisfactory?"

She looked down. "No, it's not that. It's something else."

Jonathan leaned in, curious about what he gotten his Becky in such a state.

"I was wondering if…well…" she started.

Crane leaned closer, anticipating her answer. "Wonder what?" he asked nonchalantly.

"If I could be your research assistant?"

Crane just stopped, his mouth ajar and his mind reeling to process what exactly she had said. _Did she just say…what I just think she said_, he thought, trying to make sense of what she just said.

Becky fiddled with the straps of her purse nervously, wondering about his reaction. She couldn't predict how he would react to this. On one hand, he could accept her and then she could move on from there. But what if he decided to gas her right there? Could she still stand up to him after this? Or would she just be a gibbering wreck by the end of it, just like when she was gassed in the train like the last time they met?

Crane blinked, before closing his mouth, berating himself for looking like a fool in front of yet another person, especially Becky. "…Sure…" he said weakly.

Becky looked up at him, taken by surprise at his answer. "R-Really?"

Finally snapping out of his daze, he nodded. "Yes, I certainly would."

Becky grinned, glad to finally get her opening. "Great! When can I start?"

Crane chuckled at her eagerness. "You can start tomorrow morning, if you would like. I will decide what should be done by then."

Becky nodded, before heading out the door.

On the way down the hall, she happened to bump (literally) into Alice.

"Oops, sorry," Alice said, helping her up. "I should really watch where I'm going."

Becky laughed, "You and me both."

Alice giggled, picking up some of the papers she had dropped. "So, how are you studies doing? Mr. Tetch and I were just organizing some paper work."

Becky cocked her head to the side. "Tetch? Isn't the dean's name Mr. Sketch?"

"Oh, sorry. Wrong name," she giggled somewhat nervously. "I mean to say Sketch."

Becky nodded somewhat dubiously, before plastering on a smile on her face. "It's okay, Alice. You're fine."

Alice smiled perkily, "Great!"

"So, what exactly do you do as an assistant?" Becky asked, curiously.

"Oh, a lot of things. For me, I usually run errands for Mr. Sketch, as well as prepare him some tea," Alice replied, before waving goodbye to Becky.

Becky waved goodbye as well, though she couldn't help the worried frown appearing on her face. This Mr. Tetch sounded very familiar to her, but from where, she didn't know. But she would certainly find out.


	6. Uncertainty

Crane held it in. He held it in as he walked towards his hideout. He held it in as he ordered the goons to their duties. He held it in while he was feeding Craw and Nightmare, his two pet ravens, their birdseed he had stolen from the Gotham Petco.

But when he was finally in the comfort of his own bedroom, surrounded by his friends, the books of Psychology and Stephen King horror novels that he finally let it all out. He started to laugh, not his usual cackling laugh that sounded a lot like a crow, but his normal laugh, one he hadn't used in a long time.

He couldn't believe his luck. His Becky had chosen him. Sure, she had chosen to be his research assistant, not his Mistress of Fear, but still, that would be enough. The fact of the matter was that she had wanted to help him with his research. No one ever wanted to pick him or work with him, or, at least, anyone normal. Even the rogues tend to avoid him with the exception of Harley and Tetch, and even then he wasn't allowed to interact much with them other than in group therapy or in the dining hall. But they were all annoying. Becky, though, Becky was different.

But as he was rejoicing in his newfound support for his work, a stray thought caused him to stop.

_But wait…if I allow her to get closer, she will discover my hideout and my identity eventually. But if I don't get closer, I can't manipulate her to join me. But if I allow her closer…_ Crane debated with himself, before finally shaking his head. _What am I doing? Why am I so concerned with whether or not I will be exposed? It doesn't matter. She will join me, whether she knows about me or not._

He thought about this for a bit more. But…it would be easier to have her come willingly to him than having to make her his Mistress by force. If he had to force her, that would attract the attention of the police or Batman. And he would rather not have that, not when he was so close.

Speaking of her, he noticed her suspicions of him. She seemed to know a lot more than she lets on, which slightly worries him. If she figured out his identity, then the whole endeavor was ruined. _But then, _Crane thought, picking up one of his psychology notebooks, looking over his work on the various forms of fear he recorded in people. _If she does know my real identity, why hasn't she called the police or Batman?_

He smiled. Maybe he could risk letting a little of his past go, maybe put a few hints here or there.

"'Step into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly," he murmured, a growing smirk on his face.

Becky stared at the phone, her hand poised to reach for it, but her arm wouldn't move.

She didn't know what to do. She knew what she should do. She should call the police or Batman so that they could take Crane back to Arkham.

_But then why can't I bring myself to do it?_ She thought, her hands shaking as her warred with herself.

She didn't want to admit it, but she found herself intrigued by the tall rogue. He fascinated her, despite her fears telling her to run away and never look back.

"Would it be so bad to be the Mistress of Fear?" she asked herself, suddenly uncertain of what she wanted.

She slapped her forehead. "Of course it would be bad, Becky," she yelled at herself. "You would be a criminal, a rogue. You'd be on the run, with no home to go back to."

But then again, she really didn't feel like she belonged in such a society as Gotham City, where people just went about their day as if nothing would happen and nothing could hurt them.

She shook her head. There was no use worrying about a future that would probably never happen. Getting started on the homework that he gave her, she started on her assignment. This section was on the various fears a person had, something that Crane was delighted to teach. He had assigned a big project on this that he wanted due by the end of the first semester, which was coming up very soon.

It was on this topic that Becky pondered her professor. "I wonder what kind of fear he has," Becky said silently, scrolling through the Internet for topics on fear. She found several sites, but nothing was the exact reference she wanted. Still, she wrote some of them down. It was during this browsing session that she stumbled upon the Scarecrow's file.

_Hmm, this seems interesting_, Becky thought, clicking on the link.

As the website loaded slowly on her desktop computer, she caught sight of the URL address.

" .com, "she muttered, writing that website down.

Reading through the Introductory entry for the website, she had to hold in a snort of derision.

"Family friendly facility, my butt," she scoffed, knowing the truth of what Arkham really held.

_Still, it doesn't hurt to look around_, Becky thought, clicking on some link to the rogues' files.

The first to catch her eye was the Joker's. That seemed to be a long article, but as Becky read, she almost gagged in response to some of the things that were listed as his crimes.

She clicked off before she could read the full extent of his file. _Geez, this guy's a maniac_, she thought, having to take a small break from the computer to clear her mind of the mental images.

When she had regained her composure, she continued to search. The others were, thankfully, not as bad as the Joker's.

She skimmed through some of the others. Though one article caught her eye. This file was right before Crane's, and she nearly skipped over it due to how small it was.

But it was the picture that caught her eye the most. The picture matched exactly to her memory of the new dean.

_So I was right_, she thought, grinning as she found her theory correct. She scrolled through the file.

"Hmm, it seems like the only major crime he committed was the kidnapping of Alice Pleasance," she said to herself, continuing to read through his file. She pursed her lips as she continued reading, worry growing in her gut the more she read. _This is bad_, Becky thought. _If he's working with Crane, they could team up, and Alice and I would never stand a chance._

But she still had one last file to read. Her hand trembling in trepidation, she quickly clicked on Crane's file.

On it, she could see some basic information about him, such as his height (6'3''), his weight (140 lbs.), his eye color (blue), and so on.

She took a pause at his age. 37. _Wow, and I thought he was way older_, Becky thought. _I guess life's not been kind to you, has it, Crane?_

But as she continued looking through it, she noticed some things. Some things she already knew about, such as his use of fear toxin, but there were some things she did not know, such as he was bullied in his youth.

_That would explain why he found a certain kinship with me_, she thought, a few of the missing pieces to her puzzle coming together. But despite this, there were still questions left unanswered.

"But why would he be interested in me beyond that? There's literally hundreds of girl who are bullied. Why go after me? What is so special about me that he would go out of his way to offer me a chance by his side," she asked herself, bewildered by his choice.

She yawned. Exiting out of the file, she flopped down onto her bed, exhausted and ready for what the next day would bring.


	7. Information

The steady beeps of the alarm woke Becky from her slumber. Annoyed with its incessant beeping, she slammed her fist onto the snooze button on top of her alarm.

She yawned, stretching, before climbing out of her bed. Picking up her cane, she trudged to the kitchen. Grabbing her coffee, she sipped it quickly, but not before blowing on it to cool it down.

Now feeling awake, Becky hastily got dressed and poured herself a bowl of cereal, eating quickly as she gathered her books into her backpack, and locked the door behind her as she exited her apartment.

As she entered the subway, she remembered that she had to meet Crane outside his classroom for her job.

She checked her watch, and her eyes widened. _Crap, I'm late,_ she thought, bolting out of the subway, dodging groups of people milling about as she made her way towards the University.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She found Crane waiting for her, leaning against the door to his class.

"I'm sorry for the wait, James, she replied, panting for breath. She had been running non-stop from the subway to the University, hobbling as fast as she could on her cane to get to her destination. She was just thankful she hadn't sprained anything. Lord knows she had a lot of problems with her legs.

Crane, however, didn't appear to notice her absence. "Nonsense, Becky. You're right on time," he told her, before he unlocked the door.

As Becky entered the room, Crane guided her to sit in the chair beside his desk.

"So, Professor Crowley, what am I supposed to do first?" Becky asked.

He smirked, before setting down a pile of papers in front of her that nearly reached the ceiling. "First, you need to fill out these forms."

Becky gaped at the vast amounts of paperwork in front of her, then looked at Crane. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, Becky, Becky, Becky," he said sarcastically, shaking his head as if she were a child. He enjoyed her irritation at his tone. "You know I am always serious."

Becky let out a small bark of laughter. "Serious, my butt! You've been playing jump-scare pranks on the whole class this entire month," she accused, remembering some of the incidents that he had caused. Such as nearly causing one student to almost have a heart attack and another to wet his pants due to making the classroom look like a scene right out of the Exorcist.

He grinned. "Maaaayyybe," he drawled, looking slightly away from her in a gesture of faking innocence.

Becky sighed, rolling her eyes as she started on her paperwork, looking dubiously at the pile of papers that threatened to topple over onto her. She slipped one of the papers out of the pile, only to find that it was signed by another student.

"Um…Professor?"

Crane looked up, an impish grin on his face as he realized she discovered his trick. "Yes, Becky?" he answered with mock sweetness.

"Why is there someone else's papers in this stack?" she asked, holding up the paper in question.

He snickered. "Well, you did agree to be my assistant, correct?"

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with-"

"It means that, after you sign your forms saying that you are officially my assistant, then you need to file those papers for me," he replied, answering her almost spoken question.

Becky rolled her eyes at Crane's attempts to get a rise out of her. "You have a cruel sense of humor, James."

Crane just continued to smirk as she finished her paperwork and began to file the papers away.

"So, how goes your project, Becky?" he asked, interested to see what his little mouse had thought up.

She pursed her lips, remembering what she had discovered. "Well, I have started to research the project, but all I've found is on how to alleviate fears, and not on what causes fears. There was a few websites that helped, but some of the things weren't real clear on the process of how they are acquired."

Crane frowned. He figured that, with the Scarecrow on the loose, people weren't brave enough to research how he did it. It was a shame. _But then again_, he thought, eyeing Becky with promise. "I see," he commented, his brows furrowed in thought.

"But I did find some files on the rogues, though."

Crane's ears pricked at the mention of "rogues". He raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching as he heard her news. "Really?"

Becky nodded. She didn't think he would hurt her if she would give him some information. After all, he might not know much about his colleagues in crime. But then again, he very well could. She just had to take a gamble and hope for the best. "Yeah, though the website I found them on had the most ridiculous intro page."

"And what did it say?" Crane gently pried, luring her to tell him about the file. He was eager to see what she had uncovered. Something that confidential needed to be in his hands. Knowledge is power, and power is what he coveted almost above all else.

"Oh, some bullcrap about being a family friendly facility for troubled individuals or something like that," she snorted, remembering the article. Seriously, who would buy into something that absurd?

"And the files?" he needled, wanting her to get to the point. He knew she was wanting to distract him, keep him from the truth. But it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. He always did.

She looked down, stopping her work to think of what she should say or what she shouldn't say. She didn't want to tell him everything that she recovered, but she couldn't outright lie and say she found nothing. He knew she had looked into the files, and she had to give away a little information to throw him off the scent. "Well, some were…interesting, to say the least," she answered nervously, before becoming more confident and saying, "But I did see some good references and materials." Good, he was at least taking the bait.

Crane chuckled. Yes, some of the other rogues were "interesting", especially to someone like Becky. But he was glad she had discovered the website. If her curiosity was enough, she could look into more information about the rogues and their pasts, and report back to him. But he needed to subtly persuade her to investigate herself, without his influence. She would start to act suspicious if he told her to go back and print out specific rogue files for him. He didn't need her to run away, now that he was so close to his goal.

But he also had to make sure she didn't do anything…stupid. "Have you maybe tried to interview one of the psychologists at Arkham Asylum? I'm sure they know a lot about fear, seeing as they work with most of the rogues gallery all the time," he asked. Outwardly, he appeared to be simply interested in her having more information. But the Scarecrow side of him was demanding that she not go anywhere near those hypocrites.

"Not yet," she replied, assuring him that she wasn't planning anything, while on the inside, she was planning on doing just that. "But I don't exactly have a good schedule to see them. Between work and classes, its hard to arrange these things," Becky responded, pushing the cabinet shut, her work finished.

Crane inwardly smiled. Good, she wouldn't be corrupted by those idiot doctors at the Asylum. He wanted her to see the truth, his truth, of the world, not the lies that society continued to feed people gullible enough to believe them.

A thought came to him. If he was going to get to know his plucky Becky Albright better, he needed to know where she came from in her background. He wanted to see if they really were similar, and not just a coincidence of fate or a flaw in his fear toxin. "Becky?" he asked, his voice becoming thoughtful. "What made you decide to study law?"

She looked away, sadness coming to her eyes as she remembered her bitter past. She was a little bit surprised, but knew it was inevitable. He would ask this question one day. She hadn't figured it would be now though. "Are you sure you really want to know that? It's a very long story," she said, trying to use her excuse to get Crane to drop the topic.

Unfortunately for her, he didn't drop it. "I have time. There's a good.." he checked his watch, "two hours until class," he replied nonchalantly. He wanted to know if she was like him or not, and he wouldn't be persuaded. This was his test. She would have to face her fears again, though this time it was more from bad memories than her personal fears. But if she told him, he could better understand her, and thus bring her over to his side.

Becky ran a hand through her unruly hair. She really didn't want to tell him her story. But if she didn't, she would prove that she could be broken by her fear. And she never wanted to experience that feeling of hopelessness again. And if that mean that she had to tell the Scarecrow her story, so be it. She would do it. She wouldn't let her fear of judgment control her.

_Besides, I have a feeling that he would understand,_ her conscience told her.

Taking a deep breath, she started her tale with a rueful smile, "Heh, where do I start? I guess it started when I was small. My mother died when I was born, so I was raised by my dad. It was after I was born that the doctors diagnosed me with spastic monoplegia in my right leg. After my mother died, my father…was more worse for wear. He often blamed me for killing my mother, because if I hadn't been born, my mother would still be alive. He would often beat me for seemingly inconsequential things, like accidentally burning the eggs or wanting to buy a new toy."

Crane grimaced. He knew exactly what that felt like. His grandmother had often beat him just for wanting a book from the library or not dressing when she told him to. "And…how did that make you feel?" Crane asked, taking down notes of her reactions. She seemed pretty calm up until this point. He could see her struggling to contain the emotions that were bursting out at the seems, begging to be brought to the light.

Becky sighed, her face downcast like a rainy day, unable to look Crane in the eye. "Terrible. I always thought that it was all my fault that he beat me. I thought I wasn't good enough for his love."

Crane nodded. He knew exactly how that felt.

"It only got worse when I started school. I saw the other kids' moms and dads and how they treated them, and I envied their lives and family. They weren't struggling to eat, they weren't sick all the time or struggling to walk without a cane, and they had a loving family to go back to at the end of the day. It got even worse in High School. They used to bully me, torment me."

Crane leaned in closer. He knew where this was going.

"They used to snap my cane, and call me 'cripple' or 'broken' as I lay on the floor trying to get up."

"Scrawny Freak" "Scaredy-Cat Crane" "Ichabod" "Dirty Scarecrow." These words flashed in Crane's mind as he listened to her tale. He flinched at these words. Even to this day, as a full-grown adult, those words continued to affect him. It was part of the reason he had become the Scarecrow in the first place. To prove that he was not afraid of them.

"And I just accepted it."

Crane's pencil snapped. He couldn't believe that she just let them walk all over her. Why didn't she fight back? Why didn't she attack them? He would have attacked them if he had been in her place. She had noticed the pencil snapping and looked at him quizzically. He cleared his throat, smoothing out his tie, which still had a few wrinkles in it. Still, his thoughts plagued him with these questions. "But why, Becky?" he asked, confused by her response. "Why didn't you tell the teachers or hit back?" Crane asked.

He was taken by surprise again as her hands slammed down on his oakwood desk, tears falling down her face as her voice became full of despair. "Don't you think I tried?! I did talk to the teachers. But you know what they did? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! They just said that I brought it on myself."

Crane looked towards her, a slow smirk coming to his face as he saw her rage building as she became more and more upset.

Becky took a deep breath, trying to calm her rage, much to Crane's chagrin. "It was tempting, James. It really was. But you know what I did instead?"

"What was that?" he asked.

Her eyes still held the same fiery glow as she looked Crane straight in the eyes, their orbs burning with emerald flames, like a forest on fire. "I made a promise to myself. I promised that, if I ever got into a position of authority or had a say into changing the law, I promised that I would do better than they ever did. I would listen to those people who were hurt and I would do all I could to make sure that those who mistreated them were going to pay for what they did. So, I decided to study Law, and use that to help people who had little say in how things are run."

Crane smiled as she finished her story. It seemed that he was correct in assuming their pasts were the same. She had the same reaction he had when he discovered at a young age was from people in charge. She had the same hurt and pain and anger that he had lived and breathed on, and continued to. But she still lacked the anger. She had the passion for it, true, but she wasn't angry enough to go out of her way to make life a living hell for the people who had hurt them. But he could see it: that fire that wanted to burn out of control and consume her. It was only when she was consumed by this anger, this passion, that she would be ready to become his Mistress.

Her emotions spent, Becky slid down into her chair. "I'm sorry about going off on you earlier, James. It's been a bit of a stressful month for me."

He nodded. "It's an understandable reaction, given your circumstances," he replied, knowing this kind of spent reaction well.

Becky looked away, recalling memories of the Scarecrow's attack. _'It's an understandable reaction, considering my circumstances'._ This gave her an idea. An awfully wicked, splendid idea. "What about you, James?"

Crane blinked, pointing at himself in a 'who, me?' gesture.

"No, I mean the green leprechaun in a bowler hat sitting on your left shoulder. Yes, I mean you," she said sarcastically, which just caused him to smirk at the imagery. He liked to play this little game with his mouse.

"Well, are you sure? After all, it's a very long story," he mocked humorously.

Becky smirked. "Oh, I have time. It's still two hours until my next lesson," she mocked right back. This type of banter was becoming more and more common the more time she spent around him. It was hard for her to actually picture someone like the Scarecrow acting like this. It was pretty funny, actually. But she still tried to remind herself that he was still evil, and that she should continue to stay on guard, though that voice was appearing less and less as time went on.

Crane sighed, rolling his spinning chair so that he faced away from Becky. "You're not budging on this, are you?"

"No."

Crane turned back around, his hand propping up his head on the desk. "My life…hasn't been the best. I'm not sure if I should even tell this to you. I mean, how do I even know you'll keep this to yourself?"

Becky looked down. He had a point. He didn't have anyway to know if she would tell his story or not. And from what she had read and gathered up about him in the three months that she had him as a teacher, she knew trust, to him, was sacred and almost considered mystical to him.

"James, I promise, I will not tell this to anyone," she said.

He only made a snort of derision . "Yeah, right. And how do I know you won't betray me the first chance you get?"

This hit Becky hard. It wasn't about whether or not she could keep her promise; that was not a problem. But it was the fact that he knew she would betray him that struck her hard. She couldn't help but feel sad for him, despite who he really was, or perhaps because of. She had a few friends, growing up. Crane had no one. No friends. No family. No one to care for. No one to love him or to give love to. It was any wonder he became a villain if all people ever did was treat him like one.

"James, have you ever known me to break my promises?" she reassured him,

Crane thought back to all the times he had interacted or seen Becky in the past. And he found, in all the times he'd known her, she would never break her promises intentionally. Sure, there was the accident here or there that sometimes prevented her from being where she was supposed to be, but that was life. But save those things, she had kept every word she had promised.

Rubbing his eyes, Crane made his decision. "Alright, as long as you promise not to repeat this to anyone."

She nodded.

He took a deep breath, and then let it out as he began his story. "Like I said before, my life…hasn't been the best," he started, his eyes drifting away from her to stare at one of the desks. "I was born out of wedlock to two teenage parents. They were disgusted with me. They never wanted me in the first place, and here I was, just a screaming infant that they had no idea how to take care or even wanted to take care of. So, they left me to die, shivering in the trash."

Becky gasped. "That's horrible! No person should be treated like that, even if they were an accident!" she shouted, angry for him. She couldn't believe that people could be so cruel as to just throw a live baby, one that had every right to live, into the rubbish like some discarded trash. She couldn't imagine that someone could be so unloved that they were abandoned by their parents and left to die out in the cold. She was thankful her dad hadn't abandoned her after she was born.

Crane chuckled. "It gets worse. Much worse, dear Becky." He continued his tale. "Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, depending on your viewpoint, I was rescued by my great-grandmother from the cold, and she took me in after my parents abandoned me."

"That's a good thing, right?" Becky asked. Surely his Great-Grandmother was much better than his parents, right?

Crane shook his head. "You only wish, Becky. She was a cruel woman. She despised me, just like my parents did. She was a devout Christian, but by her actions, you would more expect a devil than an angel. And yet she considered me the Devil incarnate, and regularly tortured me with either her words or her beatings. And when I did anything she considered wrong, she would dress me in my Sunday best, and send me to her atrium, where the crows would peck and claw at me."

"Were you scared when that happened?" she asked, her eyes showing sympathy and understanding. She could see some parallels of her past with his. Tortured by family. Unwanted. And if he was telling the truth, she could easily see why he became the Scarecrow. If someone was told that he was not wanted over and over again, it would only be logical that he would snap eventually.

Crane hesitated, unsure whether to admit that he had felt fear. It was against his nature to be afraid. He was the Master of Fear. He wasn't supposed to be scared. But he couldn't ignore the truth. He slumped his shoulders. "Yes," he said, in nary more than a whisper. "I was scared. I was only 10 years old at the time. I didn't know what I did was wrong or why she punished me in the first place. All I knew was that I was being punished. It didn't help that I was bullied in school, constantly looked down upon as 'scrawny' or 'crybaby' or 'scaredy cat'."

"And what did you do, James?" she asked, though in her mind she already knew what he had done. She had heard the account of Sherry Squires and Bo Grigs case during her research of Crane following his attack.

He only smirked. "Well, eventually I got my payback for their mistreatment of me. I won't tell you how, but it wasn't pretty."

_I bet,_ Becky thought. She knew she should be horrified that he took such joy in it, but a second part of her, a darker and vengeful part, was glad he had.

"When I entered college, I decided to study Psychology and got my doctorate in it as well. But even though I had my degree, I was still treated just like I was in High School, except now they were talking behind my back, commenting about my clothes or my figure. I grew restless. I needed to do something to prove I was better than them. It certainly didn't help that the students never seemed interested in learning psychology as I was."

"And you thought firing a gun off a gun in class was a good way to get them to listen?" she murmured.

Crane blinked. He didn't think she knew that part of his life. "Oh, no, no. I merely…scared them a bit," he replied, before starting to nervously laughing. "I mean, me carry a gun? That's a laugh. I wouldn't even know what to do with it?"

Becky chuckled nervously a bit, playing along with his ploy. She was grateful that he hadn't suspected her of knowing his identity.

Becky got up from her seat as the other students started to file into their seats. "Thank you for telling me your story, James," she whispered, walking towards her seat.

He only nodded, and began to teach the class.


	8. Chapter 8

Jonathan Crane hastily rapped on the door of Catwoman's apartment.

_Why am I even here?_ he thought. He was dressed in his usual Scarecrow costume, waiting like an impatient trick or treater, shivering in the cold Gotham wind. In hindsight, he should have at least put on a sweater underneath his costume. Snow fell lightly towards the ground, covering his wide-brimmed, orange hat with white flakes.

The door slowly opened, a head with short, dark hair peeking out, "Scarecrow? What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised to see the Master of Fear at her doorstep.

"C-C-Can I come in first?" he asked, his teeth chattering.

She lead him in, shutting the door behind her.

Finally out of the cold, the Scarecrow practically dashed towards her fireplace, startling several of her cats as he pounced on a pillow by the fire, discarding his gloves on the coffee table as he placed his hands as near to the fire as he could safely.

Catwoman folded her arms. "Alright, Crane. You're inside. Now, what do you want?"

Crane, catching himself quickly, pulled his hands away from the fire, but still refused to move from his spot. He needed to keep as much dignity as he could. Heaven forbid if Jonathan Crane show any expression but psychotic glee over a successful scare.

But the question itself caught Crane off-guard. He hadn't planned any of this out. He had mostly just gone on impulse and desperation. After all, Christmas was tomorrow, and if he wanted to get a present for Becky, he needed to get one now. _Wait, why am I so concerned about her? I'm the Master of Fear, the Lord of Despair! I shouldn't be concerned about whether she likes my present or not. I should be concerned about how this is going to get her closer to my side._ He had lied to the Hatter that time they had talked about their plan. He decided he wouldn't kill her. No, she was _far_ too valuable to kill. But she would be his, whether by manipulation or Stockholm Syndrome, he didn't care. "Um…"

Catwoman tapped her arm, waiting impatiently for Crane to finish his sentence. "What's the matter, Crane? Cat got your tongue?" she asked, mixed amusement and annoyance in her tone.

"I…am in need of one of your cats," Crane replied, fidgeting slightly. He never liked being scrutinized or stared at. It reminded him of his school years, where people constantly picked on him because of his tall and lanky frame.

Selina Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Why do you need one of my cats?" Her eyes narrowed. "You're not using them for your experiments, are you?"

Crane looked startled, He shook his head rapidly. "I-I'm not, I promise." Catwoman's eyes narrowed further, her mouth pursed into a frown. Crane decided wisely that he should clarify. "Well, not in the way you think."

Catwoman picked up one of her cats. "Yeah, define that, Professor."

Crane sighed, cursing his bad luck. He just had to lower his dignity a little bit more. Lovely. "I…am…getting a gift for someone." There. He said it. He just wished she would drop the subject and give him one of those stupid cats.

Catwoman's anger was then replaced by curiosity. "Oh…who's it for?"

"Um…" he stammered, trying to concoct a reasonable and believable answer without giving away too much information. Catwoman was known throughout the criminal underworld for being a two-sided coin, one moment working for herself and the next helping Batman round up criminals. Crane knew from experience not to trust her, as several of his scheme's had been foiled because of a tip off he had accidentally given away.

While he was thinking, Catwoman sat down, her mouth near Crane's ear. "So, is it for a girl?" Selina asked coyly, a sly smile on her face.

Crane jumped to his feet. "How did you know?"

Catwoman laughed. "Call it…feline intuition." She eased her way through her glaring of cats to stand near Jonathan. "So, Crane, which one do you want for your girlfriend?"

The Scarecrow was so glad he was wearing a mask at that moment, as his face was flushed a deep, scarlet red. "She-She's not my girlfriend," he said quickly, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice as he turned away from her. He knew this would be a bad idea. He had no idea how to deal with women. He tried, but he always seemed to hit a snag somewhere. It didn't help that most women ran screaming away from him. And the only normal one that stayed was scared off by his last gift.

Catwoman chuckled. "Right. Right. Silly me. So, which cat do you want for her?"

Crane knew that his next question would probably sound stupid, but he needed to say it. "You don't happen to have…well, any puppies or something?"

Catwoman just gave him an expression that read: Really? "No, I don't have any puppies, Crane? Why?"

Crane scowled underneath his mask. He just knew that was the case. He had checked all of the pet stores in Gotham, and all of them were sold out of puppies. He even checked the humane society. No puppies. So, he had to settle for getting a kitten. "She…likes dogs."

Catwoman snickered. "And you thought you could win her favor if you got her a cat instead of a dog?"

"I…accidentally killed her dog the last time I got her something," he mumbled in barely more than a whisper.

Catwoman smirked. Oh, it was _that_ girl. "How about this, Crane? You can have any kitten you see here."

Crane raised an eyebrow at her. Selena never parted with her cats this willingly. "Why?"

Catwoman just barely held back a small smile. "Let's just say I'm feeling generous today."

Keeping that in mind, Crane thought about his choice. There was a plethora of cats in front of him. There were many varieties, in all ages and colors, some catnapping, some eating, and some play fighting with each other. He was about to give up and make a decision when he spied a lone kitten off to the side.

The kitten was scrawny, and had a scar along its right eye and left ear, and its fur coat was a dappled brownish tan that looked more like shriveling brown stalks of wheat than an actual coat.

For some reason, this poor, pitiful scrap of fur appealed to the Scarecrow. He knew he could have chosen any one of the other cats, but this one he felt that Becky would actually like.

But then again, he had felt that way about the costume he had made for her, too, and that ended in disaster.

But still, what could it hurt?

"I'll take him," Crane stated, his long, bony finger pointing towards the kitten.

Catwoman looked at his choice, and then back to him, surprised. She frowned, "You really want that one?"

Scarecrow nodded.

Catwoman looked up, sighing, before going to retrieve the kitten. "All right. Your funeral."

Crane didn't exactly like the sound of those ominous words, but he didn't think much of them. It was just one kitten. What could possibly go wrong?

He found out a second later as the screaming, snarling kitten was dragged into the room. Catwoman's sleeves had several rips in it from the kitten's claws and fangs. Catwoman struggled to hold the screeching bundle of fur as she handed him to Crane. "Please. Take him."

Crane nearly backed away as the kitten nearly flew into his hands, causing him to almost panic as it started frenziedly attacking him. "Get it off! Get it off!" he shouted, flailing his arms as the kitten pounced on his face, obscuring his eyeholes that he was seeing out of. He stumbled around, causing a few cats to flee out of the way as he barreled past them. He didn't stop until he tripped, tumbling out the door and into the streets.

Catwoman laughed. "Good luck, Crane." With that said, she closed the door. She opened it a bit later, before tossing some kitty litter, a tray, and two food bowls, all of which fell on the Scarecrow himself.

Jonathan sighed, prying the kitten off of his face, before gathering the supplies and kitten and carefully balancing his way back to his lair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting the kitten itself was not a problem.

Getting a ribbon on the squirming thing and packing it in a box was another story altogether.

"Stay still, you little pest!" Crane shouted, his hands barely catching the little kitten's scruffy neck. He had managed to put the bow on, and even managed to put his card in it as well. Now all he needed to do was put it into the extra-large box he had prepared for the gift. But that was the problem. Every time he thought he had the little monster, it would slip away from him. He had literally been chasing all around his hideout, and had managed to corner it in his lab. Scarecrow growled as the kitten got away from him yet again. This kitten was proving to be more and more trouble than the scrap of fur was worth.

His two ravens, Craw and Nightmare, weren't helping at all as they perched on their stands, crowing either Crane or the kitten on as they chased each other around the lab. Crane had already put all the supplies into the bag, but the kitten was still refusing to get in.

Crane thought of an idea as he ran forwards and dived into the ground like a baseball runner, his arms out as he grabbed the kitten and scooped it up. THe kitten parentally didn't like that, and, snarling, batted its claws at Crane, but to no avail, as Crane's grip was firm.

"Haha! I finally caught you, you little pest!" Crane crowed in triumph, before hearing a snicker from the hallway. He turned slowly, a scowl on his face a mile wide as his two henchmen were snickering.

Without hesitation, he gassed them, their screams of terror bringing a smile to his face.

Thankfully, the kitten, having squeezed itself from his hand, had heard the screams of the men had run, scared. Seeing a desperate hope for escape, it jumped inside the box with the supplies, which Crane shut without warning, trapping the kitten.

"Hroo-Hra! Finally!" he shouted, causing the men to flee in terror from his shout. Looking at the huge box, Crane decided to forgo the wrapping itself (he would never admit that he didn't know how to wrap a present) and just slap a cheap, red bow on it.

With a mighty heave, Jonathan lifted the heavy box in his hands and started to trudge towards Becky's apartment.

When he finally arrived, he set the box on her doorstep and knocked quietly at her door, before darting down an alleyway towards his hideout.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Becky looked up from her studies as she heard the knock at the door. Setting her textbook down quietly, she quickly hobbled towards the door, peeking through the peephole to see who was there. However, no one was there. Only a large, white box with a red bow on it.

Curious, she opened the door, careful to not hit the box on the way out. She looked at the box, bewildered on who would send her a gift. Her father hadn't talked to her in years, so she knew it wasn't from him. Alice? She had already given her a present, which was a friendship bracelet that Becky hung around her wrist. So then, who could have sent it?

"Mew."

Becky jumped back at the sound, startled. Did the box just…meow?

"Mew," it said again.

Becky opened the lid of her present and was shocked to find a scrawny, tan kitten on a tray, looking pitifully up at her. "Mew," it stated, its whole form shivering from the cold. Taking pity on the poor thing, she took it in her hands and placed it inside.

Dragging the box inside behind her, she carried the kitten to her kitchen, hoping the room would warm the shivering cat. She noticed a small, red bow tied around its neck. She slipped it off the kitten's neck, placing it gently on the counter. A note slid out of the side, falling to the tile floor.

"Hmm, what's this?" Becky said, picking up the note.

She unfolded the note, but not before shutting the front door behind her to prevent the cold air from leaking into her home.

She quietly read the letter:

_  
I I  
I Dear Becky, I  
I I  
I I wanted to give you a present for Christmas. I heard about the I  
I incident with your dog. I couldn't find you a puppy, unfortunately, I  
I but I did find you a kitten. I hope that you like cats. I  
I I  
I Sincerely, I  
I J.C. I  
I_I

Becky couldn't help but chuckle ruefully at his message. _Figures that he would get me a cat when he knows I like dogs. I swear, it's like he wants to give me the opposite of what I want_," she thought, sighing in annoyance.

_But still…_she thought, holding the kitten close to her. _It's kinda cute, in a raggedy sort of way. At least he isn't creepily stalking me like last time. That's a plus, I guess. _

She looked at the kitten's face. Even though part of it was scarred, it looked more cute than scary. It almost reminded her of…him.

She sighed. Everything reminded her of the Scarecrow now. Mr. Crowley. The Kitten. It was starting to develop into an obsession.

But the kitten's face did look a lot like his mask, and his muddy orange fur made her think of the orange of Scarecrow's costume.

"Hmm…" she murmured. "What should I name you?" Her first answer was Scarecrow, but she dismissed it. She was not naming her kitten after a super villain. "How about Muffin?"

The cat batted her in the face.

"Okay, okay, not Muffin, then," she muttered, rubbing her nose. "How about Whisker?"

Bat.

"Tiger."

Bat.

"Rusty"

Bat.

"Oh, come on, that was a good name."

Bat.

Becky huffed, placing the kitten down. "Fine, you can be called Scarecrow, alright. Now stop bopping me on the nose!" she growled.

The kitten, now that it was set down, proceeded to happily bat at her shoestrings, his eyes wide and active.

"But now, what do I get him? I have to get him something. I mean, he did give me a cat. It would be rude to not get him anything," she mumbled, pacing around her couch in thought, trying to find something Jonathan would like.

_Wait a second…since when did I start calling him Jonathan_, she thought, shocked at her sudden familiarity with him. She always called him Crane, James, or Scarecrow. She never referred to him by his real name. One part of her was scared that she was getting too close, that she would become just like him. But another part of her was glad that she was getting closer, enjoying the danger that seemed to radiate from the man at every turn. It was almost like a civil war in her head, her Id and Super Ego battling it out as she and Ego stood off to the side, unsure of what to decide.

Becky shook her head. She would deal with that later. Right now, she needed to find a present for him. _Perhaps he'll like Poe; he seems to enjoy the macabre._ Saying that he enjoyed the macabre was an understatement.

But before she did anything, a soft mew sounded near her leg. The kitten stood up on its hind legs, pawing at Becky's pants leg. Going over to the box, she took out the two food bowls and the kitten food. After pouring the food into one bowl, she filled the other up with water from her sink, and placed both bowls on the ground. She also took out the tray that the kitten was previously standing on and filled it with the litter, pushing it near the trashcan.

Feeling that her charge was well-provided for, Becky grabbed her coat from its perch on the side of her couch before heading outside into the winter night. She knew a bookstore where her friend Alice worked at in her free time. Perhaps she would find what she was looking for there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gotham Grounds for Thought bookstore wasn't the most impressive or grand of Gotham's buildings. In fact, it looked more like a hole in the wall than anything noteworthy. But inside was a sanctuary of quiet almost as silent as a library itself.

Becky walked in quietly, the little bell on the door jingling as she closed the door. She looked around at the maze of bookshelves. There didn't seem to be that many people in the bookstore today. She soon spied her friend with a cart in front of her. She waved over to Alice. The blonde looked up, smiling as she moved the cart over to her friend. "Hi, Becky," she said quietly, setting a book in its proper place on the shelf.

"Hey, Alice. I was wondering if you happened to know where The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe is, do you?" she asked, looking around at the massive bookstore. It may not be as popular as Books-A-Million, but that didn't stop the bookstore from being a labyrinth of shelves of almost every book imaginable.

"Sure, I just put it on a different shelf. Follow me," Alice replied, showing Becky around the store.

There was awkward silence for some time, until Alice asked, "So…is this for Mr. Crowley?"

Becky shrugged. "I guess. He already got me a present. It would be rude of me to not get him anything, right?"

Alice smiled, nodding her head. "That's sweet of you, Becky. I still have to get Jervis something."

At the mention of Jervis, Becky stopped, going quiet. "Um…Alice?"

Alice halted her cart. "Yes?"

"You do know that Jervis Tetch is a criminal, right?" she replied, worried for her friend. Alice was a sweet girl, and Becky didn't want her kindness to be taken advantage of, especially by someone who had hurt her and kidnapped her before.

Alice looked up at her in shock, before her eyes darted to the ground in shame. "How did you find out?" she asked, her expression downcast.

Becky looked away from the blonde, guilt in her eyes. "I…happened to be researching for a project when I saw his picture on the internet. I…read his file."

Alice looked around, making sure no one was looking, and pulled out the book that Becky wanted. "I…I know that he's a criminal, Becky. And yes, I did hold it again him for a while. But I know that, even though he's done a lot of bad things, he isn't evil thoroughly. He's just lost. He needs someone to help him understand that he doesn't need to use criminal ways to deal with the world."

This shocked the red-head. She had never really thought of them as having a good side. To her, the world was black and white, sinner and saint, especially when it came to criminals. But the point Alice said made sense. Five years ago, she would have scoffed at the notion of a criminal being kind. But her interactions with Crane during the past three months had opened her eyes. Crane had plenty of opportunities to hurt her or scare her, or even to kidnap her. She had even seen some fear gas in his bag. And yet, he never used it on her. He had even been somewhat decent to her, giving her helpful hints on her assignment and even letting her stay after class to finish her work. If it wasn't for the fact that he was a criminal, she would have considered him a good friend.

"I…never really thought of that," Becky said. A small smile graced her lips. "Thanks, Alice. I needed that."

Alice beamed, happy to help her friends. "Of course, Becky. Anything I can do to help." She handed her the book.

Becky took it gratefully. "Thanks, Alice. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, waving goodbye.

"Alright. I'll see you then," she replied, before going back to sort books.

After paying for the book, she happened to see Crane pass by through the bookstore window. Heading outside, she silently followed him.

He walked behind buildings, through alleyways, and over walls, but Becky still managed to follow him without him appearing to notice.

Eventually, he stopped at a ratty warehouse beside the Gotham river. Becky ducked down an alleyway, not wanting to be spotted by the rogue.

Crane fiddled with the doorknob, picking the lock with a small needle before going inside his lair.

Looking around to make sure no one saw her, Becky quickly darted out into the open, approaching the warehouse cautiously. She didn't want Crane to know that she found his hideout. If he did, he would certainly move to a different location, and then her chance to trap him would be lost.

Setting the book down gently, she carefully knocked on the door, before scurrying into the shadows of the alleyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crane heard a knock at his door as he was setting up his equipment for his fear toxin.

He pondered on who could be at his doorstep at this hour. He didn't normally get visitors this early. The rival gangs of Gotham or the other rogues who usually came knocking at his door didn't come until at least midnight, and that was still many hours away.

Trudging up the stairs from his basement/laboratory, Crane quietly opened the door. He looked around. No one was there. Crane happened to look down, and couldn't help but let out a gasp.

For right on his doorstep, wrapped nicely in a small, red ribbon was his favorite book, The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

Jonathan couldn't believe it. No one had ever left a present at his doorstep, or, at least, anything he had wanted. The Jehovah's Witnesses had before, but they always ran away screaming before he could properly whack them in the head with their pieces of paper and Bibles.

But this…who could have given him this?

His first thought was Jervis, but he dismissed that notion. Jervis would have delivered the book himself.

But then…who?

He was answered by a scream of terror from the alleyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Becky watched carefully as Crane looked around for his mysterious gifted. She knew she should have just caught up to him and given him her present herself. But then again, she wouldn't have known where his hideout was if she hadn't.

She was just about to walk away when she ran into someone's chest. She looked up.

"Well, girly, where do you think you're going?" the thug snickered, a crowbar in his hand.

"Back off!" Becky warned, her hand reaching inside her purse to reach a familiar canister.

The thug, not noticing her movement, laughed. "Oh, yeah. And what are you gonna do? Scare me?"

Her response was to spray him right in the face. The man seemed to seize up, falling to the ground as he spasmed and twitched, before screaming loudly in terror.

Becky was horrified. What-What had she done? She took a look at the spray canister in her hand and was stunned to see Crane's fear toxin. Shocked, she dropped the canister and fled, not daring to look back for fear of the man's terrified face imprinting into her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crane stared at the toxin on the ground near the dead body.

He knew now that Tetch was definitely not behind this. The man didn't use fear toxin, preferring to use his mind-control cards to disable foes. The only one who used fear gas was Crane himself or those he loaned his toxin to. No one had come to him for toxin in months.

So who could have done this?

He had a theory, and Crane couldn't help but grin as he thought of a new plan.

Becky had made her move.


End file.
